


all over skin

by preromantics



Category: Shelter (2007)
Genre: Drawing, Kinks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He wouldn't have it any other way -- the beach outside, the sun on his face in the morning from between the blinds, the way the stripes of light create patterns along Shaun's skin that Zach can't capture in his sketches, no matter how hard he tries.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	all over skin

**Author's Note:**

> Posted 7/20/2010 during Porn Battle X. Prompts: sleepy, sharpie.

Zach is frustrated, torn. He has an assignment due for school, an art piece that he can't seem to get right -- it's a final, any media, and he can't find inspiration. He's inspired by everything around him, really, but he's also busy -- school, and the job he's taken on, even though Shaun told him not to bother, and with Cody. Shaun is writing, too, usually away from them for long periods of time and it's only in bed that Zach really gets to catch up with him.

(He wouldn't have it any other way -- the beach outside, the sun on his face in the morning from between the blinds, the way the stripes of light create patterns along Shaun's skin that Zach can't capture in his sketches, no matter how hard he tries. It's just, he's busy, and there is so much, and this final is not working out.)

"Deadlines," Shaun says on a sigh, leaning past Cody where he's sitting on the counter next to the stove, trying to make them all grilled cheese. Shaun puts a saucer on top of the bread in the pan, and he flicks Cody's cheek lightly. "They cook better with weight on top, little man."

(To which Cody says, "I know. And -- and I'm not a little man," and puffs up his chest. Zach rolls his eyes from where he's sitting at the breakfast counter.)

"Of course you aren't," Shaun amends, but he ruffles Cody's hair anyway.

"Deadlines," Zach repeats, probably too late. He's tired and over-thinking.

"They suck," Shaun says, and turns with a wide grin, a grilled cheese sandwich on a plate that he pushes forward across the counter to Zach. 

"They do," Zach agrees, even though he'd like to agree in more colorful and drawn-out language. Cody nods as he walks, coming around the breakfast counter to sit on the stool next to Zach's.

"They especially suck," Shaun continues, bringing over his and Cody's grilled cheese, two beers tucked under his arm, "when they make Zach frown so much." He says it to Cody, who nods empathetic ally, and Zach rolls his eyes but lets Shaun press a loud, smacking kiss to his forehead when he sits down with their lunch. 

-

Zach leans up against the headboard sketching when they go to bed. The lighting isn't that good, just the two bedside lamps with their yellow glow. Beside him, Shaun is laying on his stomach, naked under the covers, the sheet laying carelessly right at the curve of his ass. He's reading through print outs of his new novel, occasionally marking up the sheets with a red pen he keeps between his teeth, rolling around as he reads.

It's still distracting, even after a year, for Shaun to be so comfortably inviting next to Zach, for Zach to realize he's going to wake up like this for the rest of his life and not feel panicked or upset at all. He feels warm, full, and it's nice. 

Zach starts sketching the lines of Shaun's back with his sharpie instead of working on his latest idea for a project -- a cityscape over water, where the reflection was the destruction of the city, probably LA, with some sort of commentary on mankind. He knows he could do it, and that it would make a good final, but he can't commit.

Shaun stretches as Zach sketches him, turns up on his side to look at Zach with a tired grin on his face.

"You look so intent," he says.

"You messed up your angles," Zach says, trying to keep a straight face, but he smiles when he looks down at Shaun, can't help it. 

"Oh," Shaun says, "I'm sorry, I'll just pose." He rolls his eyes and shuffles his papers, leans the other way to sit them on his bedside table. 

Zach huffs, just a little. "Just turn back over on your stomach."

Shaun complies, lays his head against the pillow and shuts his eyes after a second. "Let me see when you're done," he says. 

Zach hums and starts sketching again, even though it's sort of pointless. He likes the way it's turning out, likes when Shaun is still and laying warm next to him, so he might as well finish. The yellow lamplight on Shaun's bare back is nice, and Zach closes his eyes for a second and imagines drawing the city silhouette he was thinking about before on Shaun's back, over the strong lines of his muscles. He hums, thoughtfully, and tucks his sketchbook away, over on his own table. 

Shaun opens one eye and yawns into his pillow. "You done?" he asks, voice scratchy low. 

Zach clicks the cap of his sharpie back on and then off, thinking. "Not yet," he says, lightly. 

He leans over Shaun's back, pulling the covers down as he goes. He runs a hand up the back of Shaun's thigh and over his ass, just softly, because he can, and Shaun makes a warm noise into his pillow. 

"Stay still," Zach says, and he leans all the way after only a second to press the tip of the sharpie against Shaun's back.

Shaun laughs, low, "It's a good thing I spend all my time either in the house writing or in a wet suit these days," he says. "I think we'll have to spend a lot of time in the shower to get all this off."

Zach pauses while Shaun talks, using the lines of Shaun's spine to map out his drawing. He's concentrating, doesn't want to say anything about how spending a lot of time in the shower with Shaun doesn't sound like much of a bad thing at all, but he doesn't.

"Oh," Shaun says, more quiet, settling his head more comfortably into the pillows, "I get it. Less talking, less moving."

Zach hums his agreement, and when Shaun stills, he draws again. He looses himself in it, drawing the city along Shaun's back and then continuing it with arrows and lines and shading and birds across his shoulders and down his ass, his thighs. It's two hours later when he finishes, leaning back, his own skin warm and a little sensitive for how much it had been brushed or pressed up against Shaun while he was drawing.

Shaun's breaths are measured, and his eyes are closed against his pillow, but Zach says his name lightly. "Are you awake?" he asks, and hopes he is.

Shaun makes a noise of agreement, and opens his eyes. "Extremely awake," he says, even though his eyes are crinkled and his grin looks tired and slow. 

"You don't look extremely awake," Zach says, capping the sharpie. He needs to find a camera, because his -- Shaun spread out on the bed lazily, with Zach's inspiration riding it's way down Shaun's spine -- that's Zach's final. It's the best piece in Zach's portfolio. 

"Oh," Shaun says, not turning, but leaning up on his elbows and turning his neck to look back at Zach. "I am. Believe me, I'm so hard against these sheets from all that I had to use all my willpower not to get off while you were creating art back there."

Zach pauses from where he's already rolled halfway off the bed, one knee over the side. "Oh," he says, and then grins. "I didn't realize." 

"I didn't think you did," Shaun says. 

"I need a camera," Zach says, even though he can feel want prickling up his spine, settling heavily on his skin. Shaun has a lazy smile but his eyes are dark, pupils wide, where he's propped up on his elbow looking at Zach. 

"I need your mouth," Shaun says back, raising an eyebrow. The lazy grin stays, though. "You," Shaun continues, while Zach stays on the edge of the bed -- he wants to capture Shaun before he can't anymore, just for a minute -- "Your ass, your skin, your hands. I could go on."

Zach sucks in a breath and rolls back on the bed, barely all the way back on the mattress before Shaun rolls over on top of him, pressing his wrists back into the pillow and pulling his shirt up over his head, shucking his boxers down and off. 

"It's sharpie," Shaun says, right into Zach's neck, "it's not like it's going to smear any time soon."

"Yeah," Zach agrees, letting Shaun roll off of him and over on his own back. He'd felt Shaun hard against his thigh, but he can see clearly when Shaun is on his back on the mattress, one knee up and his own hand already loosely working himself. His skin is completely clear and gorgeous on his front side, with just the hint of the black sharpie lines creeping over the sides of his ribs and the tops of his shoulders, where Zach could reach earlier. 

"C'mere," Shaun says, and Zach doesn't need to be told twice, kneeing his way down the bed and leaning down to take Shaun between his lips. Shaun bucks up just slightly, even though he's usually controlled, and he groans appreciatively. 

The camera can wait. Zach explores the lines of Shaun's hips, the light tapering of his waist, his dick and his nipples and the rougher feel of his thighs compared to his chest, and thinks about sometime drawing on those, too. 

When Shaun fucks into him, hard, not wasting time, panting over him, Zach holds onto his back, digs his blunt nails in a little over the lines he can visualize are there with his eyes closed. 

Zach falls asleep after without the camera, tucked into Shaun's side. In the morning he remembers though, with Shaun asleep on his stomach, the sheet tangled at his feet. He takes his photos quietly, the lines of light coming through the blinds across his own sharpie lines on Shaun's back looking like the apocalypse on the city, looking gorgeous.

  
  
  



End file.
